


Call Him Angel

by meggy_peggy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Swap, Bodyswap, Domestic, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggy_peggy/pseuds/meggy_peggy
Summary: After the apocalypse doesn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale decide to spice up date night. How? By switching bodies.





	1. Chapter 1

The apocalypse had come and gone. Aziraphale and Crowley had been through the trials of Hell and Heaven, respectively. And now, they were going through the trials of getting ready for a nice dinner out. Of course, this was much more trying for Crowley, since Aziraphale had worn one style for almost a century.

Crowley was fussing with his hair when the angel appeared in the bathroom. “Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale said, looking the same as ever, “are you almost ready?”

Crowley straightened up, looking at the two of their reflections in the mirror. “You know,” he purred, “I was thinking we try something different. What if we go as each other tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d fit into those.” Aziraphale gestured at Crowley’s leather pants.

For an angel, Aziraphale could be surprisingly dense. “Not like that, angel. Remember? After the apocalypse?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in concern. “Switching bodies? I’m not sure I’d like that.”

Crowley grabbed the lapels of Aziraphale’s tweed jacket, pulling him close. Crowley’s mouth was so close to the angel’s ear that Aziraphale could practically feel his lips brush against it. “Come on, angel. Just for the night. It’ll be fun.” Crowley went right back to fixing his hair. “Don’t you want to take this for a spin?”

Aziraphale had to admit, Crowley’s body was lovely. But did he want to try it on like a new suit? 

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose, which was a good sign for Crowley. At least he was entertaining the idea.

“It would be weird, I think, you know, seeing you with my body. And not just seeing, maybe…” The angel trailed off. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I know you like to take it slow.” Crowley smirked at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale watched Crowley do his hair, styling it one way, then changing it. It would be nice, Aziraphale thought, to run his fingers through that hair, maybe fix it, too. Maybe being in his lover’s (boyfriend’s? husband’s?) body would help Aziraphale better understand Crowley’s… physical needs.

“Temptation accomplished.”


	2. Chapter 2

If Crowley were the self-reflective type, he would probably come to the conclusion that he wanted to swap bodies because he had an inflated sense of self-esteem. Who, save an egomaniac, would want to, quite literally, fuck themself? 

He would have been wrong. Crowley actually did not have an inflated sense of self, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. In truth, Crowley actually desired Aziraphale’s assuredness. Sure, in the beginning, the angel worried over whether his actions were “right” or not, but as the centuries ticked past, he had become more and more confident that he was doing what was best. Aziraphale never had to wear the newest trends, he either knew he looked good or didn’t mind.

Crowley had none of that confidence. He hid behind swagger and sunglasses.

But Crowley never came to any of those conclusions, because he didn’t care.

And here he is, in his bathroom, in Aziraphale’s body. He has to admit, the clothes are comfortable. 

He walks into the living room of their flat, only to see himself. Well, not himself, but his body. With his hair combed flat. “I fixed the hair.” The cadence of Aziraphale’s speech sounds odd with Crowley’s voice. Aziraphale notices too, with a slight grimace. “How do I look?” he says, adjusting his tone.

Crowley circles Aziraphale, a familiar motion in an unfamiliar body. He musses up his-now-Aziraphale’s hair, making it presentable. “When you’re in my body, you have to keep up appearances.” 

“Alright, darling. Shall we go? A table is about to open up at Margot.” Aziraphale proffers Crowley his own elbow.

Crowley declines. “Appearances, angel.”


	3. Chapter 3

As they stroll through London, Aziraphale tries to mimic Crowley’s saunter. It’s difficult, at first, to swing the hips enough, without looking foolish, but after watching Crowley do the same in his body, Aziraphale gets the hang of it. “Crowley,” he says, “I don’t walk like that. Straighten up.”

Crowley tries to shoot him a withering glare, but Aziraphale’s face isn’t built for that. It comes across as sardonic and amused. “And why should I do that?”

Aziraphale smiles wickedly. “If I have to keep up appearances…”

Crowley straightens his back and takes smaller steps.

“Very good, darling. I shall have to reward you.” Aziraphale reaches down and pulls Crowley close. It’s a strange feeling, holding yourself. 

Kissing yourself, Aziraphale decides, is even stranger.


	4. Chapter 4

The dinner is wonderful. Aziraphale orders the pappardelle with wild boar, Crowley has a glass of white wine.

After a while, Crowley pays with Aziraphale’s wallet and the two get to their feet. “Home?” asks the angel.

“Home.” replies the demon.

They walk the streets of London, pretending to be each other.

“Hello, I’m Aziraphale. I wear out-of-fashion suits and won’t sell any of the books in my bookstore!”

“Well, I’m Crowley, and my first name is Anthony! I’m mean to plants!”

The impressions are a lot more convincing due to the fact that they both look and sound like the other.

“Mr. Fell!” someone yells from behind them.

Aziraphale-in-Crowley’s-body turns. “That’s you!” he whispers to Crowley. “You’re Mr. Fell.”

A besuited man strides up to the pair. “Mr. Fell! How are you?” He sticks his hand out.

Crowley shook. “Wonderful. You?”

“Never better.”

Crowley pauses, stuck. Who is this person?

Aziraphale comes to his rescue. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Crowley grins an angelic grin at Aziraphale. “Of course, how rude of me. This is my partner, Anthony.”

“Nice to meet you, my name is Brian.”

“A pleasure.” Aziraphale says. It was not a pleasure. This man had been turning up to the shop day after day, trying to buy a book. How rude!

Crowley shoots another glance at Aziraphale, silently begging for help.

“Let me guess. You’re trying to buy a book from him?” Aziraphale asks.

“Yes, it’s a prophecy-“

“Well, I doubt he’ll sell. He loves his books, so he probably doesn’t want to part with them.” Aziraphale scrunches up his nose, not in the thinking way, but the dismissive way.

“Actually, Mr. Fell, if now‘s a good time-“ Brian the buyer starts.

“It really isn’t,” Crowley interjects, “you see, I’m on a date, and-“

Aziraphale cut him off. “And he doesn’t want to sell you the book. I suggest you leave my partner alone for the time being. Good day.” With that, Aziraphale grabs Crowley’s hand and marches off down the street.

Brian would go on to wonder how a kind man like Aziraphale could date that rude jerk.

“I’ve never seen you this rude!” Crowley says as Aziraphale pulls him through London. He has to admit, he kind of liked it.

“I can’t be rude to my customers. I have a reputation! You, on the other hand...” Aziraphale stops walking. They stand close together. “You were a wonderful me.”

This time, Crowley initiates the kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Being infatuated is remarkably similar to being an immortal, celestial being. In both cases, you feel separated and elevated from the rest of the world. You feel like you know a secret nobody else knows. You feel like you’re going to feel this way forever. The only difference is, if you’re a celestial being, those feelings are truths, and after a few centuries, their sheen wears away.

Tonight, Aziraphale feels something he hasn’t felt in millennia. He and Crowley are in love, of course, but this feels… different. He feels himself acting like Crowley, slinking around in tight pants, talking back to people, and it is thrilling. 

He wonders if it’s the same for Crowley. Trading his lean physique for Aziraphale’s more… comfortable one seems like a raw deal. So does ditching the trendy clothes for a tartan bow tie.

“Angel,” Crowley says. This pulls Aziraphale out of his reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.” Aziraphale presses his, well, Crowley’s, lips to Crowley’s, well, his, lips. It’s weird to think about, so Aziraphale tries to let go and enjoy it.

He’s never been good at that. Always fussing about whether he’s doing it right. But Crowley is good at that. He throws caution to the wind like it’s his job. Get caught in an awkward situation? Speed away. Aziraphale has always wished he could be just a bit more like Crowley. And tonight, the lines between Aziraphale and Crowley have blurred.


	6. Chapter 6

They are in Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley is pressed up against the end of a bookshelf. They are ferociously making out. Jamming each other’s tongues into their mouths.

Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s neck. Slow, sweet kisses. He knows that he’ll have to deal with the hickeys later, but it’s okay.

Crowley is reduced to jelly. “Oh, Crowley!” he cries, not realizing his mistake until the words are out of his mouth.

Aziraphale stops for a moment. They lock eyes. “You like that?” growls Aziraphale. He’s never heard himself sound like that. Rough. Assertive. He likes it. “Come with me.” It’s a demand, not a suggestion.


	7. Chapter 7

They’re still kissing, but now they’re on the bed. Their suit jackets are crumpled on the floor. They’ll have to miracle the creases away tomorrow. Crowley is untying the bow tie he’s been wearing. Aziraphale shimmies out of Crowley’s leather pants. They stop, just for a moment, so Aziraphale can slide the black t-shirt off, while Crowley frantically unbuttons his borrowed shirt. They’re down to their boxers, and Crowley is surprised when Aziraphale pulls his off and points to his erection.

“Get to work, angel.” Aziraphale growls.

Crowley freezes. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me.” This is a new Aziraphale, one who demands. One who calls his decidedly non-angelic lover “angel.”

This is a new Crowley, too. One who’s polite. One who surprises himself when he says, “Say it again.”

“Alright, angel. Get on your knees.” 

Crowley does. He takes Aziraphale’s, well, his own length into his mouth, pausing for a second to think about Just How Weird this is. 

Aziraphale is thinking the same thing. “Maybe,” he says, in a much more Aziraphale tone of voice, “we should stop.”

Crowley gets up. Aziraphale puts his boxers back on.


	8. Chapter 8

They’re back in their own bodies, and they’ve put on their own clothes. They sit next to each other on the bed. 

“That was weird.” Aziraphale says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“But fun, I think, up to a point.” Aziraphale smiles one of those small smiles, and what can Crowley do?

“Up to a point.” 

“Let’s never do that again.”

“Never.”


End file.
